The Bird Tamer
by OutsideLookIn
Summary: Xavier hires a physical therapist to help the original five X-Men deal with the demands of their "jobs." Warren's not so appreciative. Warren Worthington III aka Angel and OC Audrey. Fluff alert! Rated M for some sensual imagery. Complete.


Posting this odd fluffy concoction of songfic and *lemony* meringue before I lose my nerve. . . please enjoy! All characters except Audrey Massey owned by Marvel Comics. I won't make a cent from this tale, set in the late sixties comicverse (which I've extensively fractured) of the awesomely wonderful original X-Men.

Dialogue note: / / marks Xavier's telepathic thoughts. There are the times in the story where you'll see Warren and Audrey's thoughts after they've spoken. I should use single quotation marks but I've never liked them, and since this won't be published professionally, I don't have to use them. Heh.

* * *

Professor Xavier knew today's visitor would be met with reluctance at best by Scott, Jean, Bobby and Hank, and refusal at most by Warren. However, these five teenagers had been through tremendous physical exertion since he cobbled them together as a team two years ago, and the strain showed. They needed someone who would tend to their overtaxed muscles and strained nerves. And because he would be the most resistant, Charles resolved to start with Warren.

Nineteen year old Warren Kenneth Worthington III, code name Angel, stood with arms crossed before his chest as Charles Xavier introduced Audrey Massey to the group. Audrey, a newly licensed physical and massage therapist, was to identify and address any physical stumbling blocks to each X Man's performance on missions.

The effectiveness of Warren's flexibility, maneuvering and speed while flying, and consequently much of his effectiveness as an X-Man, was linked to the condition of his wings. During the short respites between hunting down evil mutants or defending the earth against alien invaders, Xavier sent Warren on long range training flights to build strength and endurance, and would measure his heart rate and blood pressure afterward. Warren appeared to be making gains, but a close look at the feathered appendages was necessary to know for certain.

Problem was, Warren never allowed anyone to touch or examine them. A feral nature coupled with a natural reserve made them off limits to all. Charles was concerned that Warren's unwillingness to be touched was causing him to retreat further within himself. Xavier feared if he did not act, Warren would gradually become consumed by his feral side. As his teacher and father figure, he could not allow this to happen.

Charles permitted himself a half smile at Warren's reaction when he found out he'd be the first to see Audrey. Ocean eyes widened enormously, wings twitched beneath the sport jacket.

Audrey gave a quick, polite nod in Warren's direction. The word most often used to describe this twenty-one year old: sturdy. Five feet and four inches of well toned muscle and well placed curves were obscured by conservatively cut clothes allowing her the freedom of movement to do her job. She kept her diaphanous chestnut hair cropped Mia Farrow short in back, with longer bangs sweeping across a tall, intelligent forehead. Almond shaped hazel eyes, pert nose and full lipped mouth made her look not like most girls. Those exotic looks and something else he couldn't name made Audrey extremely appealing to Warren. But he still did not want to follow her where they were headed.

As if walking to the principal's office to be punished, he dejectedly trailed behind Audrey and the Professor to the infirmary examination room where she would work with each of them. As he exited, Warren received sympathetic smiles from Jean and Hank, a stoic thumbs up from Scott, and a "glad it's you not me" sneer and chuckle from Bobby.

Charles gestured Warren to stand near the middle of the room. Peering intently at the nervous young man, he intoned, "Angel, you are to give Audrey your complete cooperation. If you don't feel able to do this, please inform me now and I will facilitate."

"I'm willing to try, Sir."

Warren knew "facilitate" meant if he didn't voluntarily go along with the process, Xavier might exert mental control to ensure he did. He trusted Xavier, knew he only meant to help. As always, the less tame aspects of Warren's personality battled his desire to please the stern father figure who offered complete acceptance of Warren's physical mutation at a time when no one else in the world would. Xavier not only accepted it but also helped Warren develop it into means to help make the world a safer place. This was Warren's heart's desire and what he had already attempted as a solo crimefighter, the Avenging Angel, before becoming an X-Man. But he never imagined doing good would involve allowing a stranger to touch and examine some of the most intimate, private parts of himself.

"Hello Warren," said Audrey in a soothing alto, extending a sturdy, short fingered hand to grasp and politely shake his slender one. This won't be painful, I promise," she said with a warm voice but serious demeanor. Xavier had already discussed with her how and why Warren would likely be her most challenging charge. She saw his pale blue eyes follow her long as possible as she briskly moved to his side and then behind him. The most vulnerable part of himself in one of the most vulnerable of places. Her heart swelled with sympathy and other more disconcerting emotions she resolved to ignore. She cleared her throat and her mind.

"Please take off your coat and shirt. I will remove the harness."

Never thought there'd be a time I wouldn't want to do this, Warren thought as he removed his clothing, standing before her shirtless, wings strapped in pinioned waves against his back. He couldn't remember a time he felt more vulnerable.

Audrey slowly stepped forward to unfasten the buckles and peel off the leather contraption. Remembering reading Xavier recommended on handling wild birds, she kept talking. No sense of what she said penetrated his stress enervated brain, but he did find her voice soothing. A fine sheen of perspiration coated Warren's body from the warmth of the trussed appendages. The feathers were damp and slightly matted, reminding her of a just hatched chick's. But before her was a man whose wings would be repeatedly reborn, repeatedly caged.

"How miserable this must be for you," murmured Audrey as she examined the stitching, the spacing of the straps, the positioning of the buckles. Like like a torture device, she shuddered to herself. Pictures of Japanese womens' bound feet from her school texts came to mind.

"I'm used to it," retorted Warren, observing her reaction. Don't want your therapy, don't need your pity.

"Open them up. Please," came a crisp reply. Fine, Mr. Worthington. All business it is.

Warren slowly stretched his wings up and out to their entire 14 foot length. Audrey noted subtle, relieved stretches of Warren's torso, arms and shoulders, heard his "ahh". A soft flap of the massive appendages sent papers arcing to the floor, earning an annoyed look from Xavier. Warren swiftly knelt to retrieve them as Audrey took in the brilliantly white pinioned sails sweeping up and back behind him. After carefully placing the papers back on the table, he stood still, clear blue eyes fixing on the opposite wall, as if willing a window to appear to fly through.

"I see some issues with the fit and configuration of this harness. Looks like it's too tight, for one thing. It's chafing here, here and here." Xavier rolled his wheelchair behind Warren, his normally inscrutable features betraying shock as Audrey pointed out several spots on one wing where friction exposed several half inch reddened patches of skin.

Xavier shook his head.

"I neglected to take into account that his wings would continue to grow along with rest of him", said the Professor, a detail oriented man annoyed with himself that this had escaped his notice.

"Warren, why didn't you tell me your wings were getting uncomfortable in the harness?"

_Getting_ uncomfortable? Thought Warren. "I try my best to ignore them when I'm wearing it, Sir." If I didn't, I'd be ripping the thing off my body in five minutes, he added to himself.

"If you don't mind, Professor", Audrey interjected, "I'd like to keep the harness a couple days to make some detailed notes on possible adjustments."

Warren peered at her, aqua eyes narrowed in irritation. Don't bother asking the guy who'll be pretty much stuck in his room until the straightjacket/disguise is available again.

"Warren, is that all right with you?" asked Xavier pointedly.

Audrey immediately realized her gaffe.

"Sorry, Warren. I was focused on the fact that the harness was the Professor's design. It's actually a shame you must hide your wings away, especially when you're here. They are breathtaking," she fumbled on, cheeks now tinged with deep pink.

"Unfortunately, few share your view, Miss Massey," said Xavier.

/And such thoughts might not be particularly helpful to the task at hand, young lady/, he admonished in her mind. Audrey was mortified. Growing chagrin spread red across her olive skin.

"Until humans are less fearful of those who appear different, it is for his own protection and ease of interaction with humans that Warren conceal his mutation while in public," lectured Xavier aloud.

"But he is not in public while in the mansion, so why he must still wear the thing here? What I mean to say is, how can he maintain proper muscle tone if they are in forced atrophy the majority of the day? These straps also compress his shoulders and chest. Those muscles are just as vital to his flight as the wings themselves. Do you allow them free . . . as he sleeps?" Words tumbled from Audrey's mouth in ever increasing velocity and volume, alarming her, surprising Warren and the Professor.

"It's no big deal," said Warren, flashing her a halfhearted grin. Though he did not at all like what was going on, he couldn't bring himself to be hostile towards her, wanted to ease her discomfort. He was stunned by her comments. Mutated genes had fastened two giant white arrows to someone who despised being the center of attention. To Warren, his wings were cumbersome, downright embarrassing at times. He never thought about keeping them out more. Took years to navigate a room with them out so as not to knock everything over. His own parents didn't even know he had them. But there were times, times he'd admit to no one, times in predawn hours just before he'd fly free, times that he would look to his left and right at the unfurled feathered glory streaming behind him and for just a moment, feel . . . proud of them. But he couldn't recall anyone ever saying his wings were breathtaking. In a good way. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Audrey and all her words. And her legs, whose outlines his sharp eyes could still see through the generously cut slacks. His reverie was snapped by her voice.

"Okay then, let's have a look at them. Would it be helpful for me to tell you everything I'm planning to do so you know what to expect?"

Warren considered. Did he want to know when the torture of having someone violating his personal space would begin and how?

"A more indirect approach would actually be best, Audrey," Xavier interjected. "Warren, close your eyes and use the visualization techniques I taught you."

Not good, Warren agitated. Couldn't calm himself enough to visualize anything. He was perspiring again and she hadn't done anything yet. She was merely standing behind him, and he wanted to run out of the room.

/Calm yourself, young man./ Xavier softly spoke into his mind. /She is not going to hurt you./

Fight or flight flooded Warren, threatening to submerge the famous Worthington reserve.

"Now that I think of it, Warren", droned Xavier, "we should use this opportunity to review what we discussed in Biology class today. Tell me what you recall about the digestive physiology of the frog we dissected."

As images came to Warren's mind, he felt his pulse slow slightly.

"Like humans, frogs have stomachs that empty into a small and then a large intestine. They have livers and kidneys that filter out waste—uhh . . ."

He suddenly realized as he was formulating and speaking his response that Audrey had begun her examination. Sneaky, very sneaky, thought Warren half admiringly. She had traced fingertips softly along the length of his spine, leaving a wake of gooseflesh atop each vertebrae. She then placed her left hand atop the arch of his left wing and with her right, gripped where it attached to his shoulder blade, moving it slowly forward and backward. Gently but firmly pushing on the joint at the top arch, she grasped the leading edge further down and extended, then refolded the wing. His fists clenched and he could feel his face grow warm. Holy Jumpin' Hannah, let go. Let go of me. You are holding my life in your hands.

"It's okay, Warren," soothed Audrey. Just want to get a good look at the mechanics. Deep breaths," she counseled as she saw the shallow, rapid movements of his chest, the wide eyes. Terrified bird, she mused.

He wheeled around in instinctive attempt to pull away from the unwelcome touches, but Audrey held fast, almost knocked off her feet.

"Warren, I said at the outset your complete cooperation was required. This is far from it. Turn back around immediately and stand still."

Why did Xavier not understand? Agonized Warren. Gripping his left wrist with his right hand in front of him, he returned to his original position. He drew a deep, shaky breath and stood still once more.

Audrey took a breath as well before sliding her hand very slowly down a satiny seven foot long leading edge, stopping every few inches to give a gentle squeeze, feeling for any irregularities in the bones and joints. If she'd ever felt anything softer than his feathers in her life, she couldn't recall it. Keep focused on the task at hand, she repeated to herself.

Repeated touches pierced Warren like the sound of nails on blackboard. A violent shudder traveled through his body and down the wing, shaking underneath the offending hand.

He felt as foolish as he did uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he offered, dipping his head in embarrassment.

Audrey sighed. Challenging indeed.

"It's all right, Warren," she said. But I'm afraid we have much more to go. I must complete a thorough examination of both wings."

"Now? Today?" choked the bird/man.

"Clearly not," responded Xavier, lips set in a thin line of disappointment. "Your lack of cooperation has made it impossible for her to finish with you and see your teammates today. But perhaps she can make some additional progress. Of course, that depends on you, Warren." Not unexpected, Xavier admitted to himself. If anything, tangible proof of his concerns.

"I have a suggestion," said Audrey. Her initial cheer was draining away with feeling she was failing at her task, blowing her very first job opportunity. Her energy was draining away with Warren's nervousness and her own, compounded by a slew of unanticipated, unwelcome additional feelings. But Audrey was not easily daunted. She was after all the only female in her graduating class.

"Professor Xavier, Warren is obviously a gentleman. Would it be possible for us to have some time alone so I can do just a bit more work today?"

Xavier considered that perhaps his presence was making things more difficult for the avian.

"Very well. However, Warren, Ms. Campbell will be giving me a full report of her findings—including the extent of your cooperation—afterward. Triple demerits are not out of the question," he intoned, steely grey gaze underlining his words.

"Yes, Sir," Warren murmured miserably. "Would you like me to push you—"

"You just stay there, Warren. I can wheel myself out."

Warren watched the retreating back of the father figure/mentor he hated to disappoint. Then realized during that exchange Audrey had been carefully pulling out the tip of the right wing to examine the flight feathers. Another twitch of the wing completely dislodged her hands. Victory! Except Audrey was now frowning, hands on hips.

"Um, sorry," mumbled Warren, giving the wing a snap, then darting his eyes to hers. He hoped she didn't realize it was his instinctive way of shaking off the stink of unwelcome hands. But among other animal companions Audrey also had birds, so she knew exactly what he'd done.

"You, Warren Kenneth Worthington the Third, are an almost grown man. I appreciate that you're unaccustomed to this, but my parakeets show more maturity than you. I have overextended my time. What I mean to say is, you have four other teammates who require my services just as much, who will be much more appreciative and cooperative," she said keeping her voice mostly steady, turning on her heel and marching rubbery feeling legs towards the door.

"Audrey, wait!" Warren called.

She turned and looked in exasperation at Warren, then turned again and kept moving. He drew a hand through thick golden waves with a resigned sigh. He'd blown it. Triple demerits. Not to mention Audrey was pretty ticked off at him. Surprised him how much that mattered.

* * *

" . . . and then she applied sequential pressure all along my lateral obliques. It has resulted in my being able to move in a much more fluid, not to mention, upright, manner. I find her ministrations quite extraordinary," exclaimed Hank.

Bobby nodded vigorously. Audrey didn't have Lorna's exotic emerald hair, but she was a looker. Problem was, he added to himself, her therapeutic massages made him tense in some places at the same time they relaxed others.

Jean and Scott were also enthusiastic. Audrey had detected and relieved considerable tension in Scott's temples from focusing his optic blasts, and in Jean's face along the occipital tendons as she fiercely concentrated to more precisely direct her telekinetic powers.

Warren grimaced. "Not a fan. Hasn't done me any good so far," he muttered, curving a wing up in front of him to inspect for physical evidence of the pressures of her fingertips he could still feel.

"Well, maybe she can help your reaction time," observed Scott.

Well, retorted Warren silently as he fired a blue glare at Scott's ruby quartz visor, if he hadn't been thinking about the velvety nape of Audrey's neck, he would've dodged that Danger Room rocket that instead plastered him to a wall. But he couldn't exactly tell that to the Deputy Leader. If Warren didn't want Audrey around, why did she distract him so?

"As alien a concept as it might be, young master Warren, sometimes one must relinquish something in order to procure another", rumbled Hank encouragingly. "Our 'profession,' and our mutant status, at times conspire to make us overly guarded about our physical selves and we become, as the colloquial adjective goes, 'control freaks'. But if you let her"-

"Under your skin", chimed in Bobby, suddenly inspired by a Beatles tune, gripping Warren's shoulder with one hand and sweeping dramatically with the other, "then she'll begin to make it better, better, better, better, better, better, OHHHHH!" he shrilled, then shouted, "TAKE IT, SCOTTY!"

Audrey had loosened up something else in stolid Scott, who began singing, with Jean's alto assist, "Nah, nah nah NAH NAH NAH,"

Hank leaned over to chime in, "NAH NAH NAH NAH,"

And four X-Men swayed in unison, "hey Jude!"

But even after the sage advice and belly laugh provided by his teammates, Warren still couldn't willingly let Audrey under his skin. Or feathers. Multiple sessions were spent mostly in conversation that Warren argued was "calming," but resulted in minimal examination progress. They had gotten to know each other. The more time Audrey spent with the young avian, the more drawn she was to his wild yet tender heart. Despite herself, she allowed hope to grow that Warren's wish to talk wasn't just a diversionary tactic.

Talk was not what she was there for, she chastised herself after the most recent session. As visit after failed visit went by, her concern grew that Xavier, disappointed over her lack of progress, would let her go. On the other side of it, her friends, who tried their best to hide disappointment that she'd failed to earn her "Mrs." Degree in college, would turn cartwheels if they could see what was happening now.

Audrey Massey wouldn't let any man block her intended career path while she was in school, and was damned if Warren Worthington was going to do so now. Raised on a West Virginia farm, she was first of her family to graduate high school, let alone college. She'd made her own way to her degree with part time jobs and merit scholarships. She'd waded through four years of outright disapproval and behind the back snide comments from professors and classmates who missed no opportunity to tell her she should go on back home and make babies. As she earned top marks and took twice the required practicum hours to hone her already impressive instinctive gift of healing touch, ridicule eventually gave way to grudging admiration.

Graduation brought a new challenge; for months she'd looked for anyone willing to take a chance on hiring a plain spoken, plainly dressed young female when Professor Xavier, a friend of one of her instructors, took her on as a consultant. She never failed in school, and she refused to botch up her first paid position over feelings for a client she shouldn't be having in the first place. How was she going to tame this bird/man who she was falling for? Inspiration struck, and she immediately called Professor Xavier with a request before her next visit to the Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

* * *

Beat wasn't the word for Warren after the after the morning's Danger Room session. His teammates and the Professor had gone into town to run errands, but Warren was too physically spent to go, and so he would be Audrey's first victim that day.

As Warren lay on his belly in the examination room after the Danger Room session, he felt his body dissolving to a pile of gelatinous goo. He was shirtless, barefoot, and had exchanged his uniform pants for track shorts. His eyes closed. Sleep was a couple deep breaths away . . . until her approaching footsteps.

His avian nature made him startle easily, but as he stood to give her a proper greeting, it felt as if he were dragging his body from the bottom of the ocean.

Audrey wordlessly motioned for him to sit back down. Annoying as his behavior could be, she could not bring herself to be unpleasant to this man, regardless of his maddening stalling tactics and so much more that was so . . . distracting. Beyond the gracefully sculpted anatomy, compellingly glacier blue eyes and silky, wavy blonde hair which made many openly stare at him, there was the beauty of Warren himself. There was so much about him that ran so intriguingly counterpoint to her. He was scattered, she was focused. He was impulsive, she a meticulous planner. His head was in the skies of his ideals and his flight; her feet were firmly planted in practicality's soil and her deep regard for others. He was . . . wild at heart. She longed to be the calm at the center of his storm, even as her soul vibrated with his enthusiasm for the freedom of the skies. She could see that where one's personality ended, the other's began. A whole made from glorious differences.

Then there were their shared contradictions. Guardedness. Vulnerability. Veneer of fierce independence overlaying fierce desire for close connection. Audrey the Single Career Woman, disconcerted at her need for someone to accept and regard her for exactly who she was. Warren the Brave Hero, yearning to never again wonder if he was capable enough to belong with the X-Men. Holding himself so closely, using humor and silence to keep everyone away, wanting someone to refuse to be kept at arm's length. Both not only wanting to belong to someone but to rest in that belonging and not doubt they were worth it, not question if it was real. Both alternately terrified and elated they might have found that someone.

In their conversations, Warren shared his passionate desire to help achieve Professor Xavier's goal of mutants and humans living in harmony. For Warren, it wasn't an abstract dream. His huge, impulsive heart demanded that he protect, that he save, and got him in trouble time and again. He would tell Audrey about the latest time he'd gone off halfcocked when someone was in danger, only to (again) end up a pile of spandex and feathers on the floor. She would smile supportively at him and her heart would ache for him. Warren was like a mother hen with his teammates. Not a conversation went by that Warren didn't share with Audrey his concerns about the others: that Professor Xavier pushed Scott and Hank too hard in the Danger Room. Or that Bobby looked homesick lately. Or that Jean was miserable over loving Scott but receiving almost nothing in return. But aren't you worth all you give to others? Will you allow anyone to nurture and protect you? Audrey mused.

Could she accept that for herself? Audrey's ancestors on her mother's side were healers of all types, some mystical, some, as she was, on the practical side. It was a genetic drive, it was the essence of who she was to give comfort and strength to others. She was unfailingly surprised and delighted when Warren brought coffee to her before each session, chicken soup when she had a cold, a sweater when she got chilly. Her grandmother always reminded her it was not weakness to accept such offerings. I'll try, Warren, if you will, she thought.

"Hello Warren."

"Hi," he returned her greeting with a weak smile, pale blue eyes heavily lidded from utter fatigue. Professor X had carried out his part of the plan, and the rest was up to her. Audrey hoped the way to wear down Warren's resistance was to wear him out. Mission accomplished.

"Do whatever you want. Promise I'll be good this time," Warren murmured, fighting not to deposit himself into her lap. When Warren was extremely tired, he became emotionally vulnerable. She had touched his flight, and in his feral heart, had connected with the deepest part of who he was. He had just walked away from Jean, who loved Scott, not him. It cost him dearly to hide from the other X-Men just how much that hurt. And now this beautiful, independent yet compassionate, intelligent woman stood before him. Though she seemed reluctant to get close, he knew it was not a coy game. She was of too much substance for that. Thousands of years of secrets whispered through her touch, and he wanted to learn them all. She seemed to care about who lived beneath the ill-fitting suit of physical and monetary riches he uneasily wore.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid,

You were made to go out and get her.

The minute you let her under your skin,

Then you begin to make it better.

"Hope that's true," she replied, sternness undone at the sight of the defenseless avian. She batted away the urge to smooth unruly glossy golden curls.

"Only time will tell," Warren replied with a grin. Her rounded shoulder looked like such a welcoming place to lay his head. He locked eyes with hers for a long moment. She wanted him to lay his head on her shoulder.

"Lie down, Warren," she almost whispered.

"Do your worst," teased Warren. As she told him stories of her beloved mother and grandmother, weaving a spell of words and touch to soothe his feral fears, Audrey felt she'd tamed this bird/man, and moved to complete her cartographic exploration of his wings.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,

Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.

For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool

By making his world a little colder.

This time Warren let himself relax under her soothing hands, until her extension of the right wing forced from him an "ah" of discomfort. Xavier had him fly practice maneuvers earlier until could stay aloft no longer, and now the appendages were painfully swollen.

"Now I'm the one who's sorry," said Audrey. "But this is actually what I'm here for. You've got some lactic acid buildup in the tissues. Why don't you sit up facing me, and I'll see what I can do to make it better," she said. He did so, and she slipped her fingers beneath coverts and through down filaments to massage and soothe overtaxed muscles of one wing lining, then the other.

As soft hands repeatedly brushed against highly sensitive filoplumes to gently manipulate the tender tissues, pleasure flowed through Warren's every nerve ending. Exhaustion's gravity kept his arousal—just barely-from soaring. He counted freckles dusting her cheekbones to keep his composure as she kneaded with delicate firmness. He suppressed a smile as she tucked her plump lower lip between her teeth in concentration. So sweetly serious, he thought. She was just doing her job. Right? Was he imagining affection in her touches? Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He fought to keep his breathing steady as he stared at the now released reddened lower lip, the graceful pale expanse of her neck. He decided he must taste them.

Hey Jude, don't let me down.

You have found her, now go and get her.

Remember to let her into your heart,

Then you can start to make it better.

Silky softness surrounded Audrey's fingers, sweet powdery scent wafted from the pinions. Disappointed wasn't the word for either once she stopped, moving back up through layer upon layer of gleaming white pinions, gently combing them back into place.

"Thank you," he said softly. "And thanks for not giving up on me."

"Thank you for finally trusting me," said Audrey, finding feather upon feather to rearrange, drawing a quiet laugh from Warren.

"That's a never ending task, you know," he said, with a smile made sloppy from his wings' deep draught of her touch.

"I'm not complaining", answered Audrey with an answering smirk. She ran her fingers along his smoothly muscled alabaster shoulders, up and over velvety top arches of the wings, downward through the lining's plush depths to stiff, silky edges of the flight feathers. As if one would draw one's hands through a lover's hair. She repeated these motions, saw the pulse drumming in his neck, and thought with a soft, shuddering inhale: _her_ lover's hair.

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,

You're waiting for someone to perform with.

And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,

The movement you need is on your shoulder.

And Warren drew her into his arms, curling snowy wings around her, taking her face in his hands, taking her mouth in his. She drank his full lipped kiss, stroking the wings in sensual circles, earning contented "hmms" from the avian as his mouth slowly traced along her jaw and neck.

He stopped suddenly, pulling back slightly to look at her. He swallowed.

"Sorry. Not exactly being the gentleman you thought I was."

"Still not complaining," answered Audrey a bit breathlessly.

"By the way, not that I'm desperate to have it back, but where the heck's my harness, Miss Massey?"

"I . . . burned it," she confessed with a subversive glint lighting her eyes.

A broad grin burst across Warren's features that quickly folded under a bit of panic.

"Prof's gonna kill . . ."

"I have a different design in mind, Mr. Worthington. I brought along the prototype. I can show you now if you'd like".

"Maybe next time? Like I said, I'm in no hurry," said Warren, gratitude filling his words.

"Nor am I. After completing my examination, my professional opinion is still that they should be free all the time. Which well serves my unprofessional post exam opinion, that they are still breathtaking," declared Audrey, feeling a smile spread across her face as Warren blushed deeply.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

"Well I hate to disappoint you, but your work isn't quite finished," said Warren warmly, brushing a hand through her silky fringe, trailing fingers down the nape of her neck.

"What I mean to say is," he teased, borrowing her phrase before growing solemn, "You can't know everything about how my wings work until you see them in action, up where they are supposed to be. Until then, you won't know everything about me". And I want you to, he declared in his mind.

Audrey saw the longing in Warren's eyes and placed her strong hands atop the vault of his heart, pressing a kiss to the cleft of his chin. "We must do that next time, then. Can't have a less than thorough exam."

As Warren swept her into the blue, Audrey thought Warren and his skies were a magnifying glass for all her emotions. If she had ever felt happiness or amazement this intensely before now, she could not recall it. As Audrey traveled with Warren through the ocean of air, she thought how each nuance of pinions and wind moved them along. How the twist of a single flight feather could alter their trajectory, how the angle of leading edges could conjure a power dive or a spiral sunward. As the two drifted back to the ground, an updraft playfully lifted Audrey's fringe, and the somber professional stopped thinking, started giggling. And Warren laughed in turn, his heart full at having brought her joy.

Remember to let her under your skin,

Then you'll begin to make it better

Sitting with his love in her candle-limned apartment, Warren smoothed his palms down Audrey's cotton sweatered waist to the lovely swell of her hips, gently drawing her close.

Better

Pale blue eyes asked a question; amber green eyes answered yes.

Better

His hands stroked lush olive skin, reverently encompassing, caressing her breasts.

Better

She plundered his long neck, trailing her mouth across his lean, powerful chest, dancing her tongue among indescribably soft pinions. He melted at all of this. He must have her.

Better

He took a deliciously sensitive pink bud in his mouth. Her head dropped back with a gasp. He caressed over and around it with his tongue, setting off roman candles in her brain.

Better

Hands removed clothes, bodies' curves melded, and with a jagged "oh" of desire and delight from both, the avian entered his love.

Na na na,

Na na na na . . .

The radio hummed songs and soft static at two somnolent lovers until the morning's first light.

* * *

"Hey, Jude!"

Early morning sun decanted golden light onto the balcony's cedar timbers, releasing their pungent fragrance, glinting off ivory wings of Warren Worthington III as he called out to a little boy running through the grass below.

Sipping coffee, Warren squinted upward, mentally reviewing aerial maneuvers he wanted to try when Audrey darted out to say goodbye before leaving for work.

"Hey there, sexy career woman!" said Warren with a grin, his eyes traveling appreciatively down legs that curved enticingly below a red plaid miniskirt and into black patent knee high boots. He reached for the carafe to pour her a steaming cup of caffeine.

"Hey yourself, sexy stay at home dad!" purred Audrey, savoring the dark liquid.

"Don't know that I care to be so objectified . . . umm" . . . Warren's protest evaporated as practiced fingers spread through feathers.

Though the Worthington fortune ensured she never had to do so, Audrey Massey-Worthington had been the X-Men's team physical/ massage therapist for the six years since her first visit to the Mansion. She wanted to do all she could to help the team of which she'd robbed a member.

Warren and Audrey dated a few months, already knowing theirs was a lifetime bond. Warren, torn about leaving behind a life of helping others, had an hours long talk with Professor Xavier. Xavier suggested living openly as a mutant could be every bit as heroic as remaining an X-Man. It could be a powerful example to Warren's unborn son, and to other mutants dreaming of normal lives.

And so Warren Worthington III bravely revealed his mutation to two sets of stunned but ultimately supportive parents, unhesitatingly married his love, and with his young family settled into the Colorado mountaintop aerie his father gave as a wedding gift. As time permitted, Warren began to learn the family business. Worthington Enterprises acquired a multimedia conglomerate and tapped Bertram Worthington to run it. He did so with relish, displaying an uncanny gift for ferreting out each and every "Mutant Menace" story in existence, shredding their credibility with factual accounts of who mutants really were, all the good they'd done and were doing. Gradually, currents of public opinion changed direction. Warren oversaw the Avenging Angels Fund, offering rewards to catch criminals and helping victims with whatever they needed to rebuild their lives. But his heart, and his priorities, stayed firmly with his wife and young son.

Warren Kenneth Jude Worthington IV was delivered at home by young Dr. Hank McCoy. And Jude's parents couldn't have loved him more. As the five year old now flew up excitedly on crimson gold wings to greet them, wind ruffling the snowy plumage of his head, a squeal of delight spilled out of his golden hooked beak.

"Into the blue, Daddy!" He exclaimed, hurling himself into Warren's arms.

Warren swung the giggling stocky, muscular boy in a wide arc around and above his head. He looked at his and Audrey's joy and love made flesh and feathers, and felt . . . proud.

* * *

**Author's notes**: This trippy little tale sprang from research for A Wonder And A Wild Desire, a much longer tale still in progress. Stumbled onto a short entry in the Marvel Comics Database about Warren Worthington IV, born to Earth-8410's Warren Worthington III. Beside the article was a panel from one of the Astonishing Tales issues in which Worthington IV appeared. Red wings. Eagle's head. Well. That was that.

My mind mixed infinite affection for Warren's simpler days as an original X-Man with a heartbroken desire for him to have a happy life for a change. The result: Earth-616 Warren ends up with his Earth-8410 son, a woman who doesn't die and/or try to kill him, a good uncle who doesn't kill his parents, and less hostile homo sapiens! Hopefully it's almost as interesting as his tragic real story in the comicverse. If not, feel free to blame my addled brain . . .

Lyrics from Hey Jude recorded by The Beatles, written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney © Northern Songs, Ltd. 1968


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